


Deadly Nightshade

by twistedchick



Series: Upon This Rock [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedchick/pseuds/twistedchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recovering from a shared Quickening can be complex when lovers are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadly Nightshade

He woke in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in bed, shaking, staring blindly into the darkness and tensing to hear the sweep of deadly steel toward himself, so close, so close...

"Richie?" Michelle sat up next to him, her arm cradling her own sick stomach. "Is it the dreams again?" She put her arms around him, but his muscles were so tense he couldn't respond. Her own muscles ached in sympathy.

He heard a soft footstep outside the door, and a quiet knock. "Is everything all right? I just woke up and I feel awful," Amanda said, peeking around the door. She was wrapped in a wine velvet robe, and her feet were bare. "Richard? Richie? Are you all right?"

The light from the doorway fell on his still face. He shook his head, the only thing the fear would let him move. "The nightmares came back again. I keep seeing Mac coming at me with that sword, slicing me up, taking my head -- and laughing, always laughing." He shuddered, and the two women felt the ripple of fear knife through them as well.

Amanda slid into bed next to him, with Michelle on his other side. Together they rubbed his shoulders and massaged his arms and back until he could start to relax. When he lay down again, both of them stayed with him, holding him close and warm.

He was starting to know how much they both cared about him, as he cared about them. They'd been empathic triplets since they raided Skycastle and destroyed the Time Viewer, less than a week ago. The Quickening that Richie had expected from the death of Carlisle, the Time Viewer's hired Immortal guard, had arced through all of them because they had all been touching the Time Viewer when it struck. The power of that Quickening destroyed the viewer. Since then, if one of them stubbed a toe, the other two knew it because their own toes hurt. How far this unexpected physical empathy extended into emotional pain as well was something no one had expected.

It wasn't the first time both women had been in bed with him since he arrived. Richie was beginning to feel it natural to be close to both of them, to feel that both were part of himself and that he was part of them in an undefined way. He loved this closeness, the affection, the unspoken understanding they shared -- but he hated feeling so vulnerable with them when the fear took hold. He hated seeing them hurt by pain and fear along with him.

This bed really wasn't big enough for three; it was the small bed he'd taken when he first arrived at The Rock, as he thought of the cavern home they occupied. He'd made love with Michelle a few hours earlier, gently and joyously; there was room enough for two people comfortably, but the third had to perch on the edge and hope not to fall off. It was lucky none of them was fat.

He curled up in Amanda's arms, his head on her soft breast, hearing her heart beat under his cheek. Michelle curled up against his back, cradling him in her arms as well. Eventually the warmth of their touch sent him into a dreamless sleep. Silent tears trickled down Michelle's face in the dark; Amanda reached out to wrap her arms around both of them as reassuringly as she could; she moved her head on the pillow so her own tears wouldn't fall on him.

***

"I think you'd both better move into my room while you're having trouble sleeping," Amanda suggested quietly in the morning. She warmed a pot of maple syrup in a double boiler on the stove as Michelle started the waffles and Richie cooked the sausages. It had become a ritual, this way of cooking, something they did almost without realizing how formal their movements had become, how easily they moved around one another without conflict.

Richie's shoulders hunched, seemed to grow thinner, as if he were drawing in his head like a turtle though he never really moved. "I don't want to keep you from sleeping," he said eventually. "Wouldn't it bother you?"

"I'm already waking up six times a night not knowing what's happening," she pointed out. "I'd rather know. If we're in the same room, it will be easier. Besides, the bed is bigger."

Michelle nodded. "It's easier on us when we can touch you than when we're separated. I think it's also easier on you to have us there."

He nodded a little, but his shoulders still hunched in upon themselves, making the back of his neck feel vulnerable. It did help a little that he wasn't alone in an empty room when the terrors came, but being with others at that time brought its own fears.

Amanda looked over at him. "We can't help you unless you let us."

"I know," he said. "I just don't know what you can do that will help. It's not that I don't want to sleep with you, both of you -- that's not it. I --"

Michelle flipped a waffle onto a plate and poured another into the hot iron. "My bed's not big enough either." She leaned against the counter tiredly and pushed her wavy hair back from her eyes as she waited for the waffle to bake.

"I know." Richie flashed her a smile of gratitude that turned back into a worried frown. He filled a platter with sausages, turned off the burner and set the pan to soak in the sink.

"It's hard to say, isn't it?" Amanda said without looking at him. She poured the syrup into a heated pitcher and put it on the counter. "I know it's always been hard for me to admit when I was scared, and I've been scared more times than I can count. Sometimes I could run to Rebecca, at the beginning, or to someone else, and sometimes I couldn't." She knew it was hazardous to mention MacLeod's name, but at times like this it was hard to work around it. Dropping his name out of conversations became awkward, as if someone had placed a moldy corpse at the table with them and they were trying not to look at it.

Richie looked at a painting on the far wall, a view of mountains and rivers. "Maybe I should just go away. I could get on the bike and head into the hills, and you wouldn't wake up every time the nightmares come." He took a waffle and poured maple syrup on it, and added a couple of sausages.

"We already tried that, when you took the van and slept out on the road two nights ago, and it didn't work," Michelle pointed out. "You were ten miles away and it felt like you were in the next room. But it was worse that way -- I could feel something was terribly wrong but I couldn't ask you what it was." She put her hand on his arm. "Not knowing is worse than having you wake us up six times a night. Please don't go away."

"Will it help to talk about it?" Amanda asked him.

He toyed with a sausage on his plate. "You already know it all. What more can I say that hasn't been said already?"

"Are you afraid we'll leave you too?" Amanda said very softly.

He grew still for a long time, resisting the thought. His eyes lifted to hers, dark, pleading for understanding. "Yes." It was barely a whisper. "I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I'm afraid of being alone with this. I should be able to deal with it, but I can't." He looked down at his plate, then back up into her eyes. "I've seen you walk out on Mac for months without more than a goodbye. You've loved him for 300 years. You haven't known me that long; how can I expect you to stay?"

Amanda's face was solemn. "Duncan and I have been lovers for a long time, but it's not the same as this. We don't have this...connection that the three of us share." She put a hand on his arm lightly, as if it were an eggshell. "Don't you understand -- we won't leave you right now because we care about you, and we can't leave because it's physically impossible. We'll have to get through this together."

He nodded. "I know that, but part of me is still scared. It's not rational."

"It doesn't have to be rational to be real," Michelle said.

They ate breakfast in silence, but at least they all managed to eat. Richie's nightmares had been giving him upset stomachs that kept all of them eating very lightly when their bodies could have used more food.

***

Richie worked out for two hours, soaking through his clothes repeatedly as he tried to concentrate on the movements and ignore the images in his mind. Finally he put the weights back in their racks, put aside his sword and went to soak in one of the hot springs that was piped into the room next to the pool. He took a shower first, just to wash off the sweat, then walked out and lowered himself into the hot mineral water to soak his muscles.

He lay without moving for a long time, resting on the ledge at the edge of the spring with only his head out of the water, his eyes closed. The bubbling water felt good on his tired muscles. He wished it could take the tiredness out of his mind as well, but it didn't seem to work that way.

They were so worried about him. They were probably talking now about finding some way to help him. He could sense their emotions just as they could sense his; but their thoughts were their own. If they found an answer, he'd know when they told him, no sooner.

If anyone had told him, a few years ago, that he'd be living with two beautiful, sexy women who cared about him and who would make love with him in every way he could imagine and a lot more he hadn't even considered, he'd have said he'd be dreaming or in heaven. But it was a lot different than he'd expected. It wasn't just the complexities of living so closely with them, but the inner changes that had come about with Carlisle's Quickening. They were lovers, and friends, and something more and deeper than either, for which he had no words. When it was good, it was better than he'd ever dreamed; when it was bad, as it was now, he was worried for both of them.

Worse than that -- he was terrified of hurting them.

What if he woke up some night, shocked by a nightmare, and found a sword close to hand? Would he come out of the dream only to find a worse horror lying next to him without a head?

***

Amanda pushed away the computer keyboard and leaned her cheek on her hand. Taffy wasn't anywhere to be found; she'd tried every contact she knew. He was the only one she could think of who might have the knowledge to help them with Richie, and one of the few she could trust. She hoped to the gods that he was well out of range of MacLeod; if Taffy died as well as Duncan, her world would become unspeakably barren.

She had to think of Duncan as if he were dead; it was the only way she'd found to keep herself from trying to find him. Regardless of what Joe Dawson said, or what Richie said, she wanted to see him, no matter how dangerous it would be. But she hadn't been able to kill Kalas, or Luther either. She couldn't fight an insane MacLeod and win.

So, until Dawson phoned and told her he was better, she had to think of him as dead. She'd persuaded him to call when he had any news. The beeper she carried that his message would reach was silent.

She couldn't do anything about Duncan. Maybe she could find a way to keep Richie in one piece. She'd learned enough in the last couple of weeks not to think of him as just a sweet loving boy any more. He'd had as hard a life in his few years as she'd had before her first death, and it had toughened him in the same way, made him wary of honesty and easy friendship and trust. Both of them had gone to sleep hungry, had stolen food to stay alive, had made their own rules of survival and kept to themselves in a harsh world. Both of them always kept an eye open for a way out of any situation, and a fast escape on the open road when things got tough or sticky, emotionally or otherwise.

She'd learned from Rebecca that there was more to life than survival, more to happiness than a full stomach, more to love than a fleeting moment. Richie had been gentled by Tessa's love and Duncan's teaching, finding a family of his own for a short time where he was loved and accepted and didn't have to worry about leaving.

And now both their havens of safety were shattered, hers by Luther's sword and Richie's by a petty thief's gunshots and Duncan's treachery. All that was left of Rebecca's goodness was in herself, and what she could pass on to Michelle -- and to Richie, who was so afraid he would hurt them as he slept that he wanted to leave for their sake. He knew it wouldn't help. He knew he'd probably get killed by the first Immortal he met, but he didn't want them in danger from him, and it was tearing them all apart.

She'd worry later about salvaging his memories of Duncan and Tessa. Tessa hadn't been her favorite person -- she was beautiful, canny, and Duncan's -- but Tessa was important to Richie. If it made him feel better, Amanda would listen to him talk about her all day long, and try very hard not to think about Duncan and Tessa in bed, not to remember all the wonderful things Duncan knew how to do to please a woman and not to see him in her mind doing them with someone else.

Something blipped on the computer screen. She blinked back tears and turned back to her search. Maybe she could find him in a different way, through Joe Dawson, but she didn't want to. She didn't want Joe and the Watchers to realize how well she knew Taffy, how close they'd been. Joe had let comments slip a couple of times that indicated there were gaps in the Watchers' knowledge of her life, and she wanted it to stay that way.

She decided to try one more search before she quit for the time being, seeking him under the name she'd known so long ago, Taffy of Cardiff. This time there was a hit. Someone was there, answering to Taffy. She typed in a carefully worded message.  


>   
> _&gt;Do you remember the fourth ingredient in the recipe for stew that we ate with Rebecca in Caernarvon on Beltane?_
> 
> It took a moment for the reply to reach her.
> 
> _&gt;Beer, of course. What else is there?_
> 
> Relief flooded her body, and the tight muscles in her back loosened.
> 
> _&gt;Need advice asap re ill friend._  
> 

  
It never hurt to be careful. She didn't know if there was another Kalas out there, malicious and able to crack computer codes.  


>   
> _&gt;Which friend?_
> 
> _&gt;Young friend. Friend of a friend._
> 
> &gt;Very busy now with sick old friend. Can it wait?
> 
> &gt;Not for long. Severe nightmares, depression, following a death.
> 
> &gt;And Q?
> 
> &gt;Yes. Last week.
> 
> &gt;Previous mental troubles?
> 
> &gt;None I can see. He's very young.
> 
> &gt;Whose Q?
> 
> &gt;Carlisle  
> 

  
A long pause.  


>   
> _&gt;Not another one. Any chance of a Dark Quickening?_   
> 

  
Oh God. No. Not that.  


>   
> _&gt;I don't think so.
> 
> &gt;Check Carlisle's history in the trunk room, not in library. See if you find similar behavior. Keep me informed.
> 
> &gt;Yes.
> 
> &gt;Will try to check back later. Have to go dunk our friend in the well of the Goddess/Saint and hope for the best.
> 
> _
> 
> Brigid's Spring? The healing well? Would it be strong enough to take away a Dark Quickening?
> 
> _&gt;God with you._
> 
> &gt;And with you. More later as I am able. Love to you. Taffy  
> 

  
The screen went blank. She closed her eyes and prayed to all the gods she'd ever known, and all the saints as well, that her old friend Taffy, whom Joe Dawson knew as Adam Pierson, would live to see tomorrow after leading MacLeod to the well.

***

Michelle spent the day in the library and the movie vault, looking for something to help Richie, or at least take his mind off his nightmares. Funny books and movies seemed to help most; they'd watched most of the Marx Brothers and Buster Keaton movies in the last week, and she was starting to run out of ideas.

When she emerged, her arms full of Mel Brooks movies, Amanda met her in the library. The look of hope on Amanda's face made Michelle's heart jump.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"Do you know where the trunk room is? Taffy said there were records there on Carlisle -- probably Watcher records -- and we should read them. They might help."

"Probably better than more movies," Michelle said. She put the canisters down on the long reading table. "It's down this hallway, then down two more levels. I found it when I was wandering around last week, looking for the supply storage." They got into the waiting elevator and she hit the button. "Richie really likes biscuits, and I ran out of baking powder."

"Good reason." Amanda brushed a strand of hair back from Michelle's face. Michelle leaned back against the side of the elevator car. "We'll find something to help him, honey. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried for us, I'm worried for him. He's so tired, and he's pushing himself so hard." Michelle rubbed a tear from her cheek with the back of a hand. "I didn't expect to fall in love with him, but I did."

"I know. I didn't expect it either," Amanda said, putting an arm around Michelle's shoulders, "but I love both of you. Hell of a thing for an independent woman like me, falling in love all over the place. Next thing you know I'll be looking for a house with a white picket fence."

"No way." Amanda's teasing made Michelle smile a little. "I can't see you that settled and suburban."

"Good. I can't see it either." Amanda shuddered dramatically. "Suburbia, a fate worse than death. Ah, good, we're here. Where is here?"

Michelle led her to the far end of the hallway, and to an old wooden door barred and braced with iron. "It's in here. The light's on the right." She turned the doorknob and leaned hard on the door. "This is it."

"Oh, my." Amanda's mouth dropped open as she looked around the room. She'd seen the collections of other Immortals over the years, the things they'd made or been given or bought or won that they just couldn't bear to lose. They would rent storage space in cities all over the world to store their treasures; Duncan's were stored in Paris, hers in London. This collection was bigger than any she'd ever seen. "How did I ever miss this?"

"There's a false floor below us -- you have to hit the elevator button twice to get this one," Michelle said.

Suits of armor hung on mannikins along the walls. Heavy suitcases, trunks and crates were stacked in the middle of the room, surrounded by bookcases of books, thousands more books than were in the library upstairs. Wardrobes, presumably full of clothing, stood at the end of the room, and racks of weapons filled the walls above everything else. She didn't even recognize some of the swords, they were too different from anything she'd ever seen before.

Amanda opened a small chest on a table, and saw loose diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires tumbled together; the next small chest contained pearls, a third held set stones in necklaces. She'd expected this; these weren't for beauty's sake but for quick money in emergencies. But the rest filled her with awe.

Michelle had started to read the spines of the books in the tall bookcases. "Amanda, would you take a look at these? I don't read these languages, and I'm not sure what I've got here. They seem to be shelved by age, but I can't be sure."

"Sure." She went to join Michelle, and found her in the midst of parchment manuscripts in Irish uncial and Carolinian minuscule. "It looks like you're in the right centuries," she said. "Remember, Carlisle's name might be spelled with a K or even with a Q. We don't know how they spelled things back then."

Michelle had been running her hand along the tops of the books. She stopped at one, pulled it out carefully and handed it to Amanda. "Karolilus. This other one too, more Karolilus." The parchment books were oversized, but the handwriting inside was small.

Amanda looked at them approvingly. She scanned the shelves herself, backtracking through the years, and stopped with her fingers just touching the earliest book in the bookcase. It carried the circle-upsilon symbol of the Watchers on its spine. When she pulled it out, it came readily, its oiled leather binding soft with age. It was written in the Latin of a church-educated scribe, something Rebecca had taught her to read at a time when all educated people spoke Latin.

"We'll take these upstairs to look at." She looked back at Michelle, who was still puzzling out the titles of books on other shelves. "Did you find anything else?"

Michelle nodded. "There's a book here on Duncan. At least, his name is on the cover."

"Duncan? Are there any books on me?"

"I don't know...yes. There's one."

"Bring it." Amanda gathered up the volumes they'd pulled. "It always helps to have inside intelligence."

"Amanda," Michelle began, looking up from where she crouched by a shelf, "how is it that your friend has these books? They're Watcher books, aren't they?"

"He's been a Watcher at times -- they're his books. If he didn't want us to know about them, he wouldn't have told me to check this room." Amanda shivered. "Let's get back upstairs before Richie thinks we've deserted him. Besides, it's getting cold here."

"He's in the hot springs, I think."

"Good. We can leave these in the map room and join him there."

They headed for the elevator, books in hand.

***

"You look comfortable."

Richie opened his eyes; he'd started to doze off in the warm spring. Amanda slid into the water on the other side of the circular spring and swam toward him. "Yeah. I must have fallen asleep. Anything new with your friend?"

She nodded. "I managed to contact him, and he told me where to look for some books on Carlisle that might help. I hadn't been in the trunk room before. Have you seen it?"

Richie nodded. "Michelle showed me. I didn't look at the books; the swords were too impressive.

She sat next to him on the broad stone ledge. "We found a few things; they're out in the living room. I don't know how useful they'll be. They're Watcher chronicles from the early days."

"Watcher chronicles? Your friend is a Watcher?"

Amanda felt the tremor of uncertainty and took his hand. "He's been a Watcher sometimes, sometimes not. In some eras I think he just wanted to have a good place to hide, and keep an eye on other Immortals."

"Must be nice having access to all the inside information." He closed his eyes, resting back against the edge of the spring. A thought crossed his mind, a memory of a thin-faced man he'd seen with MacLeod in France. MacLeod's buzz didn't seem quite right when that man was around, as if there was another buzz there as well but not as strong as most other Immortals he'd met. It felt as if it was masked, somehow. No, it couldn't be. He would have told me.

"I want to start reading them tonight, but I was wondering what you wanted to do." She put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing away the tension.

"What I'd really like to do is take off on the bike for some far horizon and keep going for a continent or two, but that's probably not the best idea." Richie turned his head to look at her. Amanda looked so beautiful to him that he could barely believe she was there, resting her hand on his shoulder, all her attention concentrated on him. Her hair, short and dark, was slicked back by the water, and her dark eyes touched him with caring. "But I think I'd like to curl up with you and Mickey on the big couch, just so I could feel both of you near me. This thing is so scary. I don't want to be alone."

"I know. You were alone a long time when you were a child. So was I." She didn't mention her own centuries of living on the run, only occasionally being able to loosen up and trust another Immortal as she trusted her teacher, Rebecca. "I know you think I'm frivolous, and sometimes you're right. But I was faithful to one lover for centuries, until he disappeared; and the only Immortals I've truly loved since then are yourself and MacLeod, and Michelle. I don't make that kind of commitment lightly, or without thinking of what it will cost."

Her voice echoed a little in the stone room, and she fell quiet. Richie reached over to put his arms around her and hold her. He'd never expected this flighty thief to steal his heart, much less to be the rock to which his sanity was anchored.

"We'll find an answer, if I have to steal every Chronicle from the Watchers to do it," she whispered in his ear. "And don't doubt that I could do it, too." Her hand trailed down his body gently, caressing his back.

"Amanda, if you tell me you can do anything, I'll believe you. I just don't want you to be hurt." He trembled under her touch, and her hand stopped moving to hold him closer. "You don't know what scares me the most."

"Tell me." She leaned away just enough to see his face.

His voice sounded strained. "I have this nightmare, where I'm fighting MacLeod, and the sword is coming down, and I pull up my own sword and swing -- and connect -- and wake up, and I've killed Michelle lying next to me. Or you." His breathing was ragged. "I need to be with both of you so much, and I'm so scared that I'll kill you in my sleep."

"Oh, Richie, no." Amanda pulled him close. "I won't let you hurt either of us, you know that. If we have to, we'll tie you to the bed when you fall asleep and curl up on each side of you so you won't be alone." Her eyes were filling with tears. "We won't let that happen. I'll put the swords where you can't reach them at night. We'll find a way around this."

***

Michelle put a marker in the book she was reading, set it on the table in front of her and stretched. Carlisle's Watcher wasn't the most interesting writer she'd ever read; he'd observed the Immortal's political maneuverings at Charlemagne's court without apparently understanding either the maneuvers or the point of them. The Watcher had, however, kept a good record of those whose Quickenings Carlisle had taken, and some of those former Immortals looked pretty strange. He seemed to go after the weak, those who became Immortal while children, or those who might be called mentally or emotionally disturbed these days.

All these Quickenings, and none of them from a truly healthy, whole Immortal. They had to have affected him somehow, but how?

Amanda had said Carlisle was pitiless, following formal rules but with no understanding of their underlying reasons. She'd described him as cruel beyond reason, but amoral, without the realization of his own cruelty. Suddenly she pulled a different book forward, scanned a page or two, then picked up a third Chronicle. She saw the same thing in all of them, and started to make notes of her own.

Carlisle apparently went through a cycle of headhunting that lasted a couple hundred years; he started by "mercy killing" the weak, then by inflicting pain for his own pleasure on those he considered nearly his equals. The cycle would spiral, with him killing more and more young Immortals, until he managed to kill someone nearly his own age; then it would stop for a century or so.

If she was reading this right, Carlisle had stopped his killing from the late 1700s until about 1870, when he showed up among the members of several pioneer parties who had inexplicably lost members in desolate places. The deaths were usually blamed on Indian attacks, though one Chronicle stated outright that Carlisle was headhunting again. Now, a century later, he would be in the middle of his torture phase, if he were still alive.

Was it possible that, because of the influence of the Time Viewer, Carlisle was somehow using Richie's nightmares to torture him? He definitely would have considered Richie and herself as targets; he would have considered Amanda as an equal to torture as well.

The only thing that stopped the spiral -- as it was clear in each case -- was when Carlisle took the head of a good Immortal, a strong and kind person.

Did that mean they'd have to hunt down and kill an innocent Immortal to end this? Michelle shuddered. She didn't like bloodshed at the best of times; she really didn't want to have to do this. There had to be another way.

She had to talk to Amanda about this.

***

Richie lay on the couch watching _Blazing Saddles_, wearing earphones so the sound wouldn't disturb the others. His legs were tangled up with Michelle's, as she stretched out in the other direction on the long couch. Michelle was reading several Chronicles, and making notes on them. Occasionally she'd frown, tear a scrap from a piece of paper, write something on it and put it in a book to mark the place.

Amanda curled up in the big club chair nearby, reading her own Watcher's Chronicles from times past. Every once in a while she started to giggle; she remembered that particular Watcher, the baker's wife who always seemed to be hiding behind a not-quite- large-enough bush when she had a fight. The baker's wife also seemed to hide behind bushes when Amanda had agreed to meet a lover in the woods; at least, after the first few times, the woman had come to know the difference between a battle and an assignation and had left the lovers alone.

"Amanda."

"Hmm. What? Did you find something?"

"Tell me about deadly nightshade."

"Nightshade?" Amanda frowned. "Oh, belladonna. Victorian ladies used it to make their eyes look larger. Optometrists use it to dilate the pupils. Why?"

"It's poisonous, right? Causes all sorts of hideous physical problems, doesn't it?"

"Yes. It's a narcotic, and a sedative, very dangerous to mortals."

"Carlisle's Watcher thought he was addicted to it. He used to put it in poultices all the time, supposedly for sore muscles -- but Immortals don't need poultices."

Amanda put her book into her lap. "You're right," she said slowly. "I saw him do that, during the time we traveled together. He'd find some of it, chop it up, and put it on a calf muscle or arm muscle. Sometimes he even put it in his shoes. I always wondered why, but I was a little in awe of him, so I never asked."

"He was never your lover, then." Michelle's voice was hesitant.

"Never." Amanda's was absolute. "I wasn't enough of a man for him. What have you found?"

Michelle disentangled her legs from Richie's, slid down the couch to hug him and be kissed briefly in return -- Richie was following the movie's chase sequence -- and took her books and notes over to Amanda.

"I started to run across some coincidences, but you always say there are no coincidences in the lives of Immortals. So I started to chart them." She slid a pad of paper in front of Amanda, who leaned forward, biting her lip as she read. "It's the same pattern, it takes more than a century to complete, and each time it ends only when he's killed a good Immortal who wasn't seeking a fight. Sometimes he poisoned them before killing them; other times he made sure they were unable to defend themselves in other ways. Usually he tortured them too."

"And when Richie took his head ... he was entering another torture cycle. Oh gods." She rubbed her eyes. "You think Carlisle's Quickening -- his warped little personality -- found some way to borrow the strength of the Time Viewer so that it could continue to get its kicks from tormenting young Immortals."

Michelle nodded. "I don't want to kill someone else to get us out of this, either. The only things that stopped Carlisle's cycles were the deaths of good Immortals." "That's out of the question. There's not enough good Immortals left." Amanda made her decision quickly. She went to Richie's side, tapped his shoulder and gestured to him to put the video on pause. Richie removed the headset.

"You found something, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"It's not good, is it?"

"I don't know if it's good or bad yet, but you need to know it." Speaking in turns, Amanda and Michelle told him what they'd discovered in the books.

"I don't like this." Richie's face took on the haunted look Michelle hated to see. "I came up here to keep you alive, to make sure MacLeod didn't kill you, and now it looks like I'm going to have to turn into something like him just to keep you safe."

"We can keep ourselves safe; you know we won't let you kill us no matter what happens," Amanda told him. She rubbed the back of his neck, where the stiffness born of fear tightened his muscles. "What we need to do is consider alternatives, and do more research before we make any decisions."

"What can I do to help?" Richie asked, raising his steady blue eyes to theirs. "I don't want to be a burden on you. I want to fight this too. Let me do something; I hate feeling helpless."

"All right." Amanda handed Richie a Chronicle. "This one is in English, even if it's very old English. It's one that a Watcher following me wrote, but it includes my time with Carlisle. You look through it and see if you find anything that looks strange, anything at all -- and we'll read the ones in Old French and Latin and see what we come up with. I want a better picture of this guy before we try to fight him, because we all will fight him together."

"After all," Michelle put in, when Richie looked dubiously at the book in his hand, "just because he's in your head now doesn't mean he won't show up in ours later on. We all got that Quickening, not just you, and I don't want that guy coming after me either. You're a whole lot stronger than I am; I'd have gone crazy the first night, and you're still here with us."

"You're right." He nodded. "You know, I must be crazy to keep trying to think of ways to leave you two."

"It's all right. We know what you're going through," Amanda said softly. "And I still have a few more aces up my sleeve."

"A few? How many do you need?"

"As many as I can get."

***

Amanda sat in front of the computer, staring at the screen, willing Taffy to respond from France.  


>   
> _&gt;How fares the wind for France?_  
> 

  
Long pause.  


>   
> _&gt;Wind and water are still holy here. All's well.  
> _

  
Her muscles loosened and she slid down in her chair. However he'd done it, Taffy had found a way to bring Duncan out of his Dark Quickening.  


>   
> _&gt;Complete healing?
> 
> &gt;That will take time. Our friend is himself again.
> 
> &gt;Did he have a bad time?
> 
> &gt;Yes. Very bad.
> 
> _  
> 

Oh, Duncan. She could just see him blaming himself for everything he'd done, though he of himself would never go after Richie, hurt the woman he'd mauled at Joe's, or anyone else, let alone the other things he'd done since leaving Seacouver. She didn't even want to know what they were.  


>   
> &gt;And you?
> 
> &gt;Weary. How's your sick friend?
> 
> &gt;Still sick.
> 
> &gt;Any help in the records?&gt;
> 
>   
> 

  
A long pause ensued, during which she drummed her fingers on the table and hoped Taffy was really well enough to be sitting up late answering her questions. Taking someone to a Holy Well wasn't an easy task at the best of times; making an obstinate Duncan MacLeod go down into the water had to have taken every shred of strength Taffy had.  


>   
> _&gt;I remember that. What else?
> 
> &gt;Repeated psychotic spells, culminating in death of innocent Immortals. Do you know a good shrink?
> 
> &gt;Did. Sean Burns died of metal poisoning two days ago.
> 
> _   
> 

  
Damn. Someone had gotten to the only reputable Immortal psychologist.  


>   
> _&gt;Any suggestions? We don't want to go hunting.
> 
> &gt;Agreed. Barring trip to Holy Well for three, have you tried shock therapy? Sudden death?
> 
> _  
> 

Now, there was a thought. Would Carlisle leave Richie alone if Richie were dead for a while? Or would he simply emerge in herself or Michelle and torment them instead?  


>   
> _&gt;Any other ideas?
> 
> &gt;Go to holy ground, if you can.
> 
> _  
> 

  
Not a bad thought. It might help, considering they needed something approaching an exorcism to deal with this problem.  


>   
> _&gt;Thanks. Take care of yourself and sick friend.
> 
> &gt;Will do. Heading back to Greece and Alexa. You know how to find me.
> 
> _  
> 

The line went dead.

Sudden death. Amanda sat back in her chair to consider this suggestion. Putting Richie out for an hour or so wouldn't do it; too much possibility of Carlisle transferring, somehow, to one of them. But what if all of them were dead for an hour or two? Would that break the chain of nightmares?

Amanda doubted it. Going to holy ground sounded much better, but where? Even if Duncan was now safe to be around, she still didn't want to see him for a while. They needed some kind of holy ground closer to where they were than the places she knew.

She activated the connection again.  


>   
> _&gt;Taffy...
> 
> &gt;Still here.
> 
> &gt;Suggest local holy site?
> 
> &gt;Hmm. Special requirements?
> 
> &gt;Remote from public. Primitive ok.
> 
> &gt;Check map room, drawer C, file G. Look for sites marked in gold.
> 
> &gt;Can you come if needed?
> 
> &gt;No. Sorry. Needed here. She's dying.
> 
> &gt;I'm sorry. Anything I can do?
> 
> &gt;Pray, to any gods you know who would listen.
> 
> _  
> 

***

Richie was having a rough time with Amanda's Chronicle. It wasn't the weird handwriting as much as the language. After his fifth question to Michelle over an obscure word, she sighed and handed him a Middle-English glossary. This helped him a lot. After a while he started to read the old language aloud, which helped him figure out the meanings. He didn't read very loudly.

Michelle put her book down and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't mind the sound of Richie's voice at all; the rhythmic mumble was far less of a distraction than the headache that hovered behind her eyes.

Richie put a marker in his book, rubbed his forehead, and turned to pull Michelle into his arms for a long hug. He kissed her softly, then moved his hands to her temples and the base of her skull to massage away the headache that he could feel himself. It started to go away immediately, and she slumped against his shoulder in relief.

"Better?"

"Mm-hmm. Are you finding anything?"

"A bit. Amanda's Watcher wasn't that concerned with Carlisle, but she did notice some of his weird habits. He did wrap poultices of nightshade around his legs a lot, and when he did he got spaced out and acted drugged. He played with a lot of other narcotics as well; this was toward the end of the Crusades, and all sorts of things were coming back with the knights, I guess. I sort of remember that from history class in school."

"What else?" Michelle slipped an arm around Richie, leaning on him a little more heavily as his hands moved down her back.

"He tried to kill Amanda once when he was freaking out, but she put a knife in him and managed to get far away before someone came along and pulled the knife out. He had to leave the area too -- resurrections of dead men weren't popular in Bath -- but he went in a different direction and that's the last that's there about him." Richie swallowed. "There were also rumors of a beast that killed young children, 'holy innocents,' wherever he went. Nice guy."

"But somehow he managed to kill enough good Immortals to counteract the evil in him." She sat up straighter to look him in the face. "Richie, I don't want to have to kill anyone to stop this, especially someone good, but what are we doing to do? This is tearing you apart."

"I know, Mickey. It's wrecking all of us. Amanda is getting thin, too, and I don't like that. Where is she? I haven't seen her in hours."

"She said something about talking to her friend Taffy on the computer. I hope it went well. She's been really worried about him as well as you; apparently he's got a very ill friend he's trying to take care of."

Amanda opened the door behind them that led to the long hallway, and walked past them to the kitchen. They could feel relief in her, but something else as well that they couldn't quite catch, a kind of pain. She headed for the liquor cabinet, poured herself a shot of single-malt scotch and tossed it back, all in one movement. When she set the glass down on the counter, she grabbed onto the smooth surface to steady herself. By then Richie and Michelle were on their feet and heading toward her, feeling her lightheadedness.

"It's all right. I just had to do that," Amanda said. Her eyes were closed, her face paler than usual, but her legs were steady under her.

"What's happened?" Richie put an arm around her waist; he didn't want to take a chance on her falling. "C'mon, sit down a minute. Talk to us."

Amanda pushed her fingers through her hair and sat on a barstool by the counter. "A few things. First: Duncan is recovered from his Dark Quickening."

"He's alive?" Michelle asked. Richie's face was still.

Amanda nodded. "Taffy took him to the holy spring of Brigid, in Normandy, and he defeated his evil self there. I don't really know the details. Taffy sounded very tired."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised." Richie didn't mean his words to sound as bitter as they came out.

"What it means," Amanda said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "is that we are free to leave here whenever we want to seek holy ground. Taffy thinks that might help deal with the nightmares. He had a few other suggestions, but I'd rather not think of all of them right now."

"Such as?"

"Short-term death for all of us, together, to drive Carlisle out. On holy ground it just might work, but it's a last-ditch effort. I don't want to leave us vulnerable to anyone."

"And you think MacLeod won't be coming after us? You're sure of that?"

"We can call Joe Dawson and confirm it if you want."

"Yeah. I want. I don't want to leave the Rock unless I know we're all safe from him."

***

Joe wasn't at the bar; Amanda had to dial his private number this time. She hoped nobody would drive down the deserted road they were on until after they left. The last thing they needed was for some bystander to wonder why a Consolidated Telephone and Power truck was parked by a telephone pole late at night with two people up the pole and jacked in to listen on the line.

"Dawson." He sounded sleepy.

"Joe, it's Amanda. I'm sorry if I woke you. I wanted to know if you've heard anything about MacLeod." She leaned the receiver away from herself so Richie could hear every word as well.

"Amanda? Yes. I was going to phone you first thing in the morning. Just got the call from Adam Pierson; Mac's back to being himself. Whatever he did -- and I'll find out more about that when I talk to him next -- whatever he did, it worked. Mac's back at the barge with his cousin from Glenfinnnan; Adam was heading for a hot shower and a good meal and probably two days of sleep."

Richie jerked away from the phone jack. Adam Pierson? Adam was a Watcher, a friend of Joe's. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Amanda. Wait a minute. Amanda knew about this first, from her Immortal friend Taffy ... who had to be Adam Pierson, with a hell of a lot longer lifeline than anyone expected.

"Joe, that's good news, the best news. I need you to do something for me if you would."

"Depends on what it is."

"Could you look up something in the Chronicles about Carlisle? We've got a problem here."

"What kind of problem?" Joe's voice deepened. "Not another one like --"

"No, but ... well, it's hard to explain, but Richie took out Carlisle a few days ago, and all three of us ended up with the Quickening somehow. It hasn't been going too well."

"I'm not surprised; the man was a sadistic bastard. But what can I do?"

"He went in cycles, where he got more and more violent until he managed to kill someone who was a good Immortal, and that goodness stopped the cycle. I need to know two things: when was the last time he killed a good Immortal, and whether he was still addicted to belladonna when he did it. Deadly nightshade. Also, if you can find anything on other Immortals who had drug addictions, and whether the addictions affected the Quickening."

"Hmmm. That's a good question. There've been a couple of them I can look up. How do you want me to get back to you? I feel a little funny about using the beeper; it could be traced too easily."

"I know. Here, write this down." She dictated a long sequence of numbers and letters. "Use that for an email address, and encode it, and it will reach me after it goes through enough blind boxes to make it very hard to trace."

"All right. I'll try to send it tomorrow."

"Thanks, Joe. I owe you one."

"Anytime you want to pay back, you know where to find me."

"I just might do that, Joe." She ended the connection.

Richie was silent as they disconnected the jack and climbed down the post. When they got into the truck, he said, "Why do you call Adam Pierson 'Taffy'?"

"Because that's the name he had when I first met him; he was a Welsh tinker from the area near the River Taff. So, you picked up on that. Well, I figured it would come out sometime." She started the truck and let it idle for a moment to warm up.

"Why doesn't anyone tell me these things?" Richie's voice sounded harsh in the dark truck cab. "It's not like I'm still a kid or something."

"I know." She put a hand on his arm. "If it were my choice, I would have told you as soon as I realized he was the same person, but he has asked all of us who know him not to reveal that he's an Immortal."

"Because he's a Watcher too? He'd be a great target for the Hunters."

She pulled the truck onto the road and headed back to The Rock. "Not just that. Taffy's way older than I am. He'd be a real prize to a headhunter, and believe me, he's not the world's finest swordfighter. He's good, don't get me wrong, but his technique is way out of date. Duncan could beat him any day. Even I could beat him -- in fact, I dumped him on his ass once just to prove it, and he sat there and laughed at me." She sighed. "We all just want the old man to be there with us for the next few centuries."

"I can understand that. I guess I can forgive you for not telling me before, since it wasn't your idea." He slumped in the seat. "So, Mac's back to his old self. I think that's supposed to be reassuring, but it hasn't sunk in yet."

"It will." She turned the lights off and shut off the engine as they reached the garage. "Give it a little time. I'm not sure it's sunk in for me yet either." She turned her seat toward him. "Richard, have I told you how much it means to me that you thought to warn me? Nobody else remembered to tell me what was going on, but you came here even when you were scared to death of him."

"Not in so many words." He waited to see what would happen.

"I don't think words say enough. Let me tell you in my own way." She reached for his shoulder and pulled him over toward her, then slowly started a kiss that burned from his head to his feet. He started to answer it, but she stopped him with a finger on his cheek, pulled back enough to say, "No, this is from me. You can respond later," and went back into the kiss again. He went with her and let her do what she wanted, and basked in the emotions she was pouring toward him. It took a long time for him to realize she'd stopped kissing him when that finally happened; when he did, he felt worry coming from her. His eyes opened.

"What is it?"

"The lights are on and I didn't signal for them yet. Someone else is here."

Fear flowed out to them now, and anger, and it could only be from Michelle. Richie wanted to break down the doors, but Amanda held his arm and kept him down to a slower, sneaky pace as they went in the hidden back door and up a set of spiral stairs that led them to the games room. Amanda tapped his arm and pointed: through the one-way mirrors and the built-in wall periscopes, he could see most of every room on that floor.

What he saw chilled his bones.

Michelle was tied to a dining room chair, surrounded by three men. One of them was asking her questions; Richie couldn't hear the words, but he could see her defiance and knew she was afraid for him. The man looked like Horton, but that couldn't be; Horton had died in Paris. Hadn't he?

The second man stood nearby, taking notes with a pen and notebook. He was younger, and stood and moved as if he'd spent years in the military.

The third one, by the table, had pulled out a syringe, plunged it into a bottle of some kind of serum, and filled it. He grabbed Michelle's arm, pulled it out to her side and plunged the needle into the arm.

Michelle's eyes dilated, and she passed out briefly. Richie's heart stopped, until he saw her breast move with her breathing. When she came back to consciousness, she looked dizzy, and her muscles shook involuntarily.

"The bastards. They've injected her with belladonna," Amanda muttered in his ear.

"Belladonna?"

"Deadly nightshade. Same stuff Carlisle was addicted to. What are they trying to do?" She stared into the viewer. "They have guns, but nothing too heavy. Check the war room. I'll keep watching."

He ran into the war room next door -- no guns, nothing really helpful... no, there. Two heavy crossbows, a bag of bolts, and a belt of throwing knives. He brought these back into the game room.

"Good." She cranked back the double bowstrings and armed the crossbows, over and under. "I found this." She pulled on a gameboard on the wall, and the wall slid open just enough for them to go through. "It leads to the ventilation duct just past the fireplace. We should have a clear shot from there."

As they crawled through the rough tunnel, they could hear the harsh voices interrogating Michelle, and her drugged responses. Richie had to fight to keep her fear from overwhelming him; he sent her his anger in return to use as strength against the Watchers. From Amanda's set face, she was doing the same.

They came to the end of the tunnel, in the ventilation duct; it was a clear shot. Amanda put two bolts through the Horton look-alike, which knocked him away from Michelle with a cry; Richie sent his two shots through the interrogator. The third man raised a pistol to shoot Michelle in the head, but was stopped by knives thrown by both of them. They dropped the crossbows, grabbed the knives and ran back down the corridor and out into the room. Amanda picked up the pistol and dispatched the three mortals with single shots to their heads while Richie untied Michelle and carried her over to the couch.

"Damn it, why can't they die on the floor instead of on the rug?" Amanda complained, as she rolled the corpses onto the flagstone floor and searched their pockets. "I hate housekeeping." She took her finds over to the couch. "How's she doing?"

They both felt the small flutter of fear as Michelle returned to consciousness, until she opened her eyes and saw Richie's worried face. "I'm dizzy," she said in a small voice. "Amanda --"

"Right here, hon."

"They wanted me to tell them who Taffy is. And why you're here. And who we're working for." She drew a slow breath. "I didn't say anything."

"I know you didn't, sweetie," Amanda said, holding her tight.

"We've got a problem here," Richie said. The buzz had started in his mind, and it echoed in the women's minds as well. The problem was evident when one of the corpses groaned and started to sit up - - the one who looked so much like Horton.

"No, we haven't," Amanda said. She shot him again, with a pistol this time. "Richie? I could use a hand."

Between them, they took the man out the side door to the helicopter launch pad, beheaded him and threw his body and head over the edge -- in different places so there would be no chance that Horton would rise again, ever. The small amount of quickening that struck them barely delayed their return to see how Michelle was recovering. The other two bodies went into dry wells a thousand feet deep, air shafts nature had made eons before in the solid rock.

"I'm okay, a little dizzy still," Michelle said. "What was that stuff?"

"Nightshade."

"And this is what Carlisle was addicted to? It's unpleasant as hell. He must have been really warped."

"How many other Watchers or Hunters know about this place?" Amanda fumed. "How did they find it?"

"Horton probably traced the buzz," Richie reminded her. "Do you think it's safe to stay here any longer?"

"I don't know." Amanda headed for the computer. "I'm going to find out."  


>   
> _&gt;Taffy of Cardiff, you there?_  
> 

  
A pause, which felt like years.  


>   
> _&gt;Here. What's up?
> 
> &gt;Hunters. We dealt with them. Beheaded Horton.
> 
> &gt;Horton was immortal? Good riddance.
> 
> &gt;Rock unsafe sanctuary now. Suggestions?
> 
> &gt;Close rock wall. Go out at the river's edge cave -- take boat there and whatever you need. I cannot come to help.
> 
> &gt;Not expected to. How is she?
> 
> &gt;Weak. A few months.
> 
> _   
> 

  
She thought a moment, then typed:   


>   
> _&gt;Safe to call Joe?
> 
> &gt;I can call for you, if you want.
> 
> &gt;Yes. Hold a minute.
> 
> _  
> 

  
"Richie? Go to the map room, drawer C, file G, and bring it to me."

He was back with the file in a minute or so. Together they scanned the page. "There. That looks best."  


>   
> _&gt;Taffy?
> 
> &gt;Here.
> 
> &gt;Tell Joe to meet us at the third gold star on the left, on the map you suggested. Desperate measures.
> 
> &gt;Right. When?
> 
> &gt;We're leaving within the hour.
> 
> &gt;Got it. Take care. Best to you. Taffy.
> 
> _  
> 

  
"Third gold star on the left?" Michelle asked, over her shoulder.

"It doesn't have another name." Amanda pointed to the map, which showed one solitary gold star by itself on the left side of the paper. "Not in English, at least."

She looked back toward the living room, where blood spattered the carpet. "Where's the cleaning supplies? Taffy will kill me if we don't clean up that mess."

***

Cleaning didn't take long.

Amanda tucked the vial of belladonna into her sleeve as they cleaned, along with the syringe. Other than Richie suddenly scratching his wrist, nobody noticed.

***

Closing the rock wall meant moving the helicopter back out of the way and sliding a section of panels carved from thin layers of the outer rock into place. When set, they made the wall appear as if it were totally solid. They set the panels into place in the garage as well.

Michelle, recovered, packed food; Richie gathered weapons and equipment; Amanda tucked a few jewels from the treasure room into a pocket and threw the Watcher chronicles they'd read into a knapsack with her clothes and thief harness. Together they moved down the levels of their sanctuary, shutting down power and eliminating any evidence that humans had used the site.

Richie patted the seat of his bike sadly as he passed it.

"If we live through this, I'll come back for you," he said to it.

"We'll come back some day, I promise," Amanda said, "if only to swim in those pools again."

***

Waiting in drydock for them sat a moderate-size motorboat, old but in good condition. They winched it over to the water, dropped it in, loaded themselves into the boat, and headed out into the river.

"How's the time?" Michelle asked.

"A little later than I thought, but not bad." Amanda, at the wheel, turned to her. "You ever learn to navigate?"

"Sure -- want me to take over for a while?"

"Thanks. Here's where we are, and here's where we're going."

"Got it. Any rapids or anything?"

"Not that I've seen from the chopper, not in this section of river. We should be fine."

"What's bothering you?" Richie asked Amanda.

"Can't hide anything, can I?"

"No. Whatever you've got up your sleeve, I can feel it. Give."

She sighed and handed him the vial and syringe. "It's the only thing I can think of."

"Overdosing? You think that'll get rid of Carlisle?"

She nodded. "He hated holy ground, refused to go there. If we all OD in safety -- with Joe there to guard us while we're out -- we have a chance of coming back without Carlisle."

"At this point I'll try anything."

***

They cruised quietly past the place, then turned back and anchored the boat near a rock out of sight of the main beach. Another boat was tied to a rock in shallow water by the beach; from there they could see the light of a small fire.

Richie looked at the others -- none of them felt a buzz. "Is this entire place holy ground, or just part of it?"

Amanda shook her head. "I'm not sure. I think it's not so clear right here."

"It doesn't have that feeling," he agreed. Michelle nodded.

They approached cautiously, swords at the ready, and saw a man sitting on a fallen log, drinking a cup of coffee.

"C'mon up to the fire," Joe Dawson called to them. "There's coffee enough for you, and some chili if you want."

"Nice to see you too, Joe," Richie said, dropping his sword back into his jacket. "Chili sounds really good. I'm --"

"Starved," Michelle and Amanda chorused. Neither of them had felt the slightest bit hungry, but now they felt as ravenous as Richie did.

"Can't hide anything from Amanda," Joe commented, dishing up three bowls of chili.

"That's so true," Richie said with a grin. "Joe, this is Michelle."

"Pleased to meet you." He handed her a bowl and a spoon, and received a smile in return that would have made his heart flip if he'd been as young as he felt.

Joe wasn't sure what to think of what he saw. Amanda sat on the log next to Richie, Michelle on the ground with her back by his knees, and the three of them ate steadily, without realizing that their moves were synchronized. When a spark jumped from the fire and landed on Michelle's ankle, Amanda jumped and Richie said, "Ouch." Michelle rubbed it out with a wince, and the others made similar gestures -- without looking at her at all.

At last Joe said,"So, what's the deal? Adam didn't say much, just told me to meet you here."

"We have this ... problem," Michelle said. "It's a little complicated."

"A lot complicated," Richie groaned. "Let's tell him what really happened when Carlisle died..."

The Watcher listened in silence, noticing how each of them knew what the others would say, and how nobody really interrupted anyone else because each speaker started just as another ended. When they finished, and sat looking back at him, he shook his head. "I'd thought I'd seen everything, but with what happened to MacLeod I'm not sure any more. If I understand you right, Carlisle is harassing all of you through Richie?"

"Yes, and we want to be rid of him." Amanda put her empty bowl down. "It'll cost us a lot, but we can't bear the way things are any more."

"You'll probably lose the empathy completely, you know," Joe said. "Right now you've got the kind of connection that most people only dream of."

"It's not always fun and games," Richie pointed out. "I'm afraid I'll kill them when Carlisle is in my nightmares."

"Good reason to get rid of him, then." Joe looked at Amanda. "What do you have in mind? Some kind of exorcism?"

She nodded. "Nothing like you've ever seen, but it's the only thing I know that may do it. But before we start I have to ask you to promise two things. The first is that you keep this out of the Chronicles if you can."

"You're gonna get me kicked out of the Watchers, you know."

"If we're still around we'll take care of you, Joe. You know that," Richie spoke for all of them.

"All right. If I write it at all I'll leave a few things out."

"Thanks," Michelle said.

"What's the second thing you want me to promise?"

Amanda put out a hand to Michelle, who took it and held it hard, and to Richie, who slipped his arms around both women. She swallowed before speaking, and Joe saw tears in her eyes. "If we come back with Carlisle still within us, after the ritual, please kill us all."

"No. I can't do that." Joe turned away from them, the lines in his face deepening. "I just can't."

"Think of it as a shadowed Quickening, then. Think of it as the potential for three Carlisles, not one, and using all our skills," Amanda told him.

Joe shuddered. "It was hard enough shooting MacLeod. Don't ask this of me."

"Please, Joe." Richie's voice was hoarse. "For everyone's sake." He clung to the women, and they to him.

After a moment, Joe nodded. "How will I know?" he whispered. "I don't want to make a mistake with this."

"If we don't act right, or look right, or talk the way we usually do, you'll know."

The strain that coursed through the three Immortals lessened, and they loosened their grip on each other. Amanda went to Joe and knelt beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You're the only person we'd trust enough to even ask this of, Joseph." She turned his head toward her and kissed him. "And we don't ask it lightly at all."

Joe Dawson looked her in the eye. "If you make me kill you, Amanda, you'll owe me one."

"And I'll pay, somehow. I always pay my debts."

"Well, it would help if you paid during this century," he grumbled.

"Enough, you two. It's not getting any earlier," Richie broke in. "When can we do this?"

Michelle checked her watch. "It's after midnight."

"Now is as good a time as any," Amanda said. "Holy ground is that way, beyond the first marker, right, Joe? Take a torch, each of you." She picked up flaming sticks from the fire and handed them to Richie and Michelle, and to Joe when he got to his feet. Taking up her own torch, she led them along a short trail, around the bend to an open circle in the woods, a place of clean rock guarded by two standing stones by the trail.

***

When they were all there, Amanda handed her torch to Michelle, who started a fire in the center of the open space. Richie added his own torch to the blaze. Amanda stopped Joe at the standing stones.

"This is the only way out of the circle I'll cast. If it comes to it, don't let us past this point."

"I won't." He stood with his back to the stone, feeling the warmth of the fire on his face. "Amanda, I've wanted to tell you for a long time how much that time we had meant to me."

"I know." She turned her dark, brilliant eyes on him. "I hope we'll have more."

He wanted to kiss her but he knew that wouldn't stop anything that needed to be done that night, so he steadied his feet and stood his ground alone, guarding the gateway with his torch and his .45 and his presence.

"All right," she said. Richie and Michelle came to stand with her by the fire. "I'm going to cast the circle now; we can't leave and you can't enter until the ritual is complete. Richie, I want you to hold these for me, but don't do anything with them." She handed him the vial of nightshade and the syringe. "Michelle, you're on guard right now." Michelle nodded, watching Richie carefully for any signs of Carlisle's presence. The pain she felt at having to do this arced through Richie and Amanda; even Joe perceived it.

Amanda pulled her sword and walked around the circle, drawing the border line on the rock with its point. Sparks flew from the tip of the iron sword as she walked. "I cast this circle in the name of the holy ones of this place, and in honor of their mysteries. May all that is good be welcome here, and all that is evil be banished from this place forever."

She finished the circle in front of Joe, as she had started to draw it. Her face, remote with concentration, no longer looked to him like the youthful Amanda; now she held all her centuries of experience lightly but visibly, in an almost perceptible veil of light around her and in the solemnity of her bearing.

"Whatever I tell you to do, do it," she whispered to the others. "Do what I do." They nodded.

"You've done this before," Richie said.

"Yes, long ago." She spoke more loudly, "Great ones, we come here to be cleansed of the evil that has come upon us, to give it over to you to be dealt with as you will, and to receive in its stead light and goodness. Be with us now in this."

Amanda told Michelle, "Take what Richie holds and pass it through the fire three times." Michelle took the vial, held it in the tips of her fingers, and moved it through the end of a flame three times. She dipped the tip of the needle into a hotter flame three times, then handed both of them to Amanda.

"We're going to give ourselves fatal amounts of belladonna, Joe. If all three of us are simultaneously dead, Carlisle won't have anywhere to go. You should see a Quickening appear and disappear within this circle. It should not harm you." Amanda looked beyond the circle; Joe nodded. Through the slight mist at the edge of the circle his cane looked as if it had changed into a sword.

Michelle came forward to Richie. "As a token of my love for you, I give you this." She kissed him, and he returned the kiss. She turned to Amanda, who kissed Richie, then kissed her tenderly. The three of them sat down by the fire. Michelle pressed the needle into the vial, pulled back the plunger until it was full, brought it out, and injected it into Richie. "May whatever is not of goodness in you and in us all be gone to the four winds."

Richie stiffened and fell back. "Hurry, do me next," Amanda said. "He's getting stronger." Michelle plunged the filled syringe into Amanda's arm, refilled it with most of what remained in the vial and injected herself. With her last strength Amanda grabbed the syringe and vial and threw them into the fire. Then she collapsed, on her side facing the others, unmoving, her eyes open. Richie stiffened and lay dead. Michelle groaned once only.

Away from the fire, Joe felt his heart sink. Nothing was happening. He felt the weight of the .45 he carried, loaded, and prayed he'd be able to leave it in its place unused.

A smoky, clouded substance rose from Richie's body, swirling over the others as if looking for another home and finding none. Small drifts of smoke curled up from Michelle and Amanda as well, coiling into the dingy cloud. The cloud tried to move beyond the circle but could not; it coiled in upon itself in frustration and lightning bolts crackled and crashed. The hissing vial of belladonna crackled and exploded in a shower of fine mist within the cloud -- as if the cloud itself were on fire.

The sound of a moaning scream emerged from the flaming cloud, still contained within the sword-drawn circle. As the flaming droplets of liquid were consumed, the sound lessened. By the time it was done, only a fine mist remained. A wandering breeze found it and whisked it away.

***

Joe watched anxiously. The amount of time an Immortal stayed temporarily dead often varied, but by any measurement they'd been down far too long. He'd been standing outside the circle more than two hours, and the eastern sky was starting to lighten.

The fire in the circle had died down to embers when Amanda stretched, rolled onto her back, and blinked. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and reached out toward Richie with the other. Richie's hand grasped hers as his eyes opened. Together they turned toward Michelle.

"Did the circle hold?" Amanda called to Joe.

"It sure did. Looks to me as if the Quickening went into the burning belladonna, and the smoke blew away on the wind." Joe started in, then stopped himself. "Tell me who you are."

"We're all right, Joe," Richie said. He bent over Michelle, leaning on one arm. "Mickey, wake up. Please wake up."

"Is there any record anywhere of an Immortal dying by poisoning and staying dead?" Amanda asked anxiously.

"Nowhere in the Chronicles," Joe replied.

Michelle's cornflower-blue eyes opened and focused on Richie's face. "That was intense," she said.

"Are you okay?" Richie asked.

Michelle nodded. "I will be. Oh, it feels so strange."

"What does, honey?" Amanda asked.

"I can't tell what you're feeling any more. I miss it. I miss feeling you there." She started to cry, and Richie took her into his arms and held her, rocking a little.

"I'm right here, Mickey. I'm right here."

Amanda stood and pulled her sword, and Joe stiffened and started to reach for his .45. But all she did was retrace the circle, going the opposite way, and rub out the marks with the bottom of her foot as she went. "I open the circle to all that is good, with thanks to the Holy Ones of this place for their protection. Hail and farewell."

Joe found himself replying, "Hail and farewell," without thinking but realized he meant it. Whatever had guarded this place had done its best for them all.

Amanda sheathed her sword, walked up to Joe, took his face in her hands and kissed him, a kiss that was both thanksgiving and a promise.

***

"Where to now, kids?" Joe asked as they made their way back to the boats.

"I think we'll hit the road together for a while. You want to learn about motorbikes, Mickey?" Richie smiled at the girl, his arm around her.

"Maybe I'll teach you a few things," Michelle said archly. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"You don't tap dance on a bike," he said firmly.

"Tap dance? You learned to tap dance?" Joe asked, interested.

"Up and down stairs, blindfolded."

"You're kidding me."

"Actually, he's quite good at it," Amanda admitted. "A very fast learner. Richie, you can work with me any time you want."

"Just what we need, the Amanda Darrieux School of Catburglary." Joe grinned at her and she smiled back. "It has its uses, Joseph, just like anything else. Where are you going from here?"

He was caught off guard by her question. "Back to the bar, I guess. I was thinking of going on vacation for a while, now that MacLeod's in Paris and behaving himself. Someone else can watch that problem child for a time."

Amanda's laugh rang out like bells. "Oh, he'd hate to be called a problem child, but that's just what he is. Would you like some company on this vacation? I have to go pick up a few things first, but I could meet you someplace."

"Why not bring him back to The Rock?" Richie asked.

"It's not ours," Mickey reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that. It's too bad you can't see it. The Rock of Ages is a great place."

"Rock of Ages?" Joe's expression was puzzled. "As in 'Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee'? If you're staying in a church, why'd you need to go to holy ground?"

"It's a rock, not a church."

"So's that." He pointed back up the path.

Richie grinned. "It's a little more complicated than that."

Michelle said, "Amanda, if you tell me what you want and where you'll be, we can stop by with your things before we take off."

"Now that's a great idea. Where were you planning to go, Joe? May I come along?"

Joe felt his muscles relax more than they had in months. "I'd be purely delighted, ma'am, to have your company," he said in an Old West drawl. "I was just moseying up the crick a bit to this little waterin' hole called Frisco."

"San Francisco? I haven't been there for a while. If it's not a problem, that is." She batted big eyes at him.

"Lady, you owe me a big debt for this one, and I intend to see that you pay it back in full." As he stepped into the boat, he said, "Just one thing -- you aren't allowed to own any gambling halls this time. I've read your Chronicles."

"I promise I'll behave myself," Amanda laughed.

***

"You know, I can still feel a little of Amanda," Richie said, much later that day when he and Michelle were back at the Rock packing.

"So can I, but it's so vague, it's almost like nothing. When I try to sense you it's the same -- I can tell that you're there, but not what you're feeling any more." Mickey tucked Amanda's favorite sweater into a bag.

"Oh, well. I think we can take care of that," Richie said. He wrapped his arms around Michelle. "Care to guess what I'm feeling?"

"All bets are off," she said. "I know what you're feeling. I'll make you a pizza as soon as I finish packing Amanda's things, okay?"


End file.
